Kramerbooks Cafe
by Crowley For King
Summary: Spencer's boyfriend, John, is steadily becoming an abusive asshole, playing mind games to keep the genius' head in knots. When his lover finally goes too far, Reid makes the decision to leave and asks Morgan for help. But John isn't going to give up Spencer without a fight. Warnings: Dub-con / graphic depictions of abuse and violence / SLASH / ReidXMorgan / ReidXOMC / So much smut
1. Chapter 1

Spencer's shoulders automatically hunched up when the door slammed violently. The logical part of his mind knew that it was a long ingrained part of his DNA that made him do this. Simply an innate reaction to a loud noise – possible danger – that made his body move to protect his neck.

Of course there was another part of his brain that thought maybe it was because his brain now associated loud noises with pain; a theory that only solidified itself when he heard the angry roar of John's Chevy nova peeling away from the curb below his apartment, causing him to grimace.

It was only after the sound of the muscle car's engine had disappeared that Spencer's own muscles finally relaxed and the adrenaline left his body, leaving him feeling incredibly tired. He listlessly gazed around his apartment, noting the overturned coffee table and the shards of broken glass by the door, the jagged pieces glittering in the orange glow from outside the nearby window.

He felt tears prickling at his eyes but stubbornly refused to let them fall. He'd shed enough tears because of John in the last twenty four hours and now that he was finally gone, Spencer was reluctant to give him any more power in his absence.

A cool breeze blew in through the open window next to the TV, fluttering the thin white curtains framing the glass and effectively snapping Spencer out of his daze. With a sharp sigh through his nose, the young genius went to grab the broom out of the pantry in the kitchen and made short work of sweeping up the glass on the floor and dumping it in the garbage.

When he righted the coffee table and looked around he was satisfied to realize that the room looked just as it had before his boyfriend had had his little temper tantrum.

But despite this return to normalcy, Spencer was still left feeling shaken and jittery; his muscles felt tight and sore like they did after a run on the treadmill at work and a headache was building behind his eyes like it had every intention of becoming a migraine and, with another sigh, he realized that sleep would not be forthcoming tonight.

He glanced over at the digital clock on his VCR. 10:39. Not that it mattered how late it was; Spencer knew every twenty four hour establishment that sold food within a hundred mile radius.

This was far from his first time needing a distraction when he should be sleeping.

With practiced movements and shaking hands, Spencer pulled on his jacket, grabbed his keys, phone and wallet and left the apartment, taking special care to close his door softly so as not to disrupt his neighbours.

He cringed when he realized John's departure had likely woken up the whole building anyway.

When he glanced up at the sky it was easy to tell a pretty big storm was on it's way. The orange street lights were reflecting brightly off the low hanging cloud ceiling; the dark canopy was a shifting mass of engorged clouds just waiting to break open.

He made it to the cafe just as the first fat drops started falling and ducked inside the double doors with relief. At least one thing had gone right today.

Spencer took a moment to glance around the small cafe, feeling some of the tension leave him just by being in such a familiar and comforting place. Kramerbooks Cafe was a safe haven. Open twenty four hours a day, the little coffee shop doubled as a used book store and sometimes Spencer thought that if he actually took a moment to do the calculations, it was very likely that he spent more time here than in his own apartment and, as he tossed his jacket over the back of his favourite chair, the genius realized with a jolt that, thanks to John, he now felt safer here than he did in his own home.

"Pathetic." He muttered to himself, his slim shoulders slumping dejectedly.

He wondered for the thousandth time how he'd allowed himself to get involved in such a relationship and, as with every other time, he came up blank. There was no defining moment, no abrupt shift in John's personality, no life altering event – that he knew of – that would suddenly make his boyfriend of almost six months suddenly become this violent man with a hair-trigger temper.

It had been gradual. So gradual that even Spencer, a supposed genius who got paid to notice human behaviour, hadn't realized what was going on.

He offered the tired looking lady behind the counter a half smile – it was all he could muster – and she offered him one in return when he gave his order.

John hadn't hit him, Spencer reasoned. He'd never laid a hand on him in violence or anger. But Spencer wasn't stupid enough to think that it may never happen. He knew the statistics and had heard stories from the mouths of domestic abuse victims so many times it was hard for even __him__ to keep track.

Their stories were all similar to his.

In the beginning, when they'd met, John had been such a gentleman. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, to the point where it had bordered on ridiculous and Spencer had wondered if he'd somehow jumped right out of the 1800's. After some time had passed, as with any relationship, they grew more comfortable with one another and the little gestured seemed to fall away. They'd get in little spats and have arguments but each time they did John seemed to get more and more...

Spencer's train of through trailed off when he was handed a steaming mug of coffee and he clutched it to his chest to shuffled back over to his chair, concentrating hard on not letting any of the precious liquid spill over the edges of the porcelain cup.

Once he was settled in his chair by the window, Spencer tried to find the word he'd been looking for to describe John's gradual descent into an emotionally and verbally abusive boyfriend. But just as before he came up empty handed; there was simply no one word to described or explain what had happened.

He knew he should tell someone. Things were going south quickly and the longer he waited the closer he came to-

His cellphone rang shrilly and he quickly set his mug down, sloshing some of the scalding liquid on to his hand.

"Sorry." He muttered through a wince to the old man sitting across the room. He glared over the rim of his glasses, a pile of books open in his lap, until Spencer finally got his phone out of his jacket pocket and answered the call.

"Hello?" He said, sounding snappy and a little breathless after wrestling with his jacket.

"Reid? You ok? You sound out of breath." Morgan's voice dripped with suggestion and Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Fine. What do you want?"

Suddenly Garcia's voice came over the speaker. "We're going out for drinks, boy wonder. Come with us!"

The thought of going out and socializing in a crowded bar after the day he'd had actually made Spencer's stomach roll unpleasantly.

"Uh, no thanks." He muttered, getting up to peruse the bookshelf. The shelves had been built right into the wall and went from floor to ceiling, the old wooden planks nearly groaning under the weight of so many books stuffed between them.

"Aw, come on, man!" Morgan cajoled.

"No, thank you. I'm just going to...read."

"Yeah, cause' you __never__ do that." Morgan drawled.

A spike of irritation nearly made him just snap at his friend to leave him the hell alone but he squashed it down. It wasn't Derek's fault that he had relationship problems. Instead he just sighed, wondering what would be the quickest way to get Morgan to leave him be.

"Come on, Reid, you never come out with us anymore." Said the other agent, sounding sincere now. "We'll even come get you. Where are you now?"

Spencer frowned, thinking that rather an odd question to ask. "I'm at my apartment." He answered.

There was a beat of silence and then Morgan spoke again and something in his voice caused Spencer's gut to clench.

"Oh...er, right. Well, maybe next time then."

__'He knows.__' Thought Spencer, his heart pounding in his chest. '__He knows I'm lying.'__

"I'll see you at work then?"

Morgan's voice still sounded strange but in his panic, Spencer was unable to decipher the emotion behind the other man's tone. When he realized several seconds had passed and he hadn't answered, it was all he could do to squeeze out a, "Yeah. See you at work." and just hope it sounded as normal as possible.

He hung up abruptly and tossed the phone on to the little table beside his chair, staring down at it with wide eyes, irrationally worried that it would ring again any second and Morgan would start grilling him, anger twisting his words while he demanded to know why Spencer had turned him down.

Then he shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Morgan was __not__ John.

He grabbed a random book off the shelf – honestly it didn't matter, he was just going to stare at the first page without reading anything anyway – and fell back into his chair, settling down for what was sure to be a long night.

* * *

><p>Spencer was not surprised when he didn't hear from John for several days. It wasn't unusual, after one of his rages, for him to drop off the grid for a few days to cool down and when he eventually called or showed up at Spencer's apartment he was all whispered apologies and tender touches.<p>

It was getting old though, this pattern of theirs, and Spencer found himself more and more reluctant to let the man back into his home and heart. He would never say that he loved John... because he didn't. But to say he didn't care a great deal about him, after all this time, would be an absolute lie and for some reason the genius had yet to figure out he always found his resolve crumbling under the weight of those puppy dog eyes every time.

If nothing else their make-up sex was usually pretty spectacular and at the mere thought of the last time they'd been together Spencer felt heat rising in his face and pooling in his belly.

Though it said a lot about their relationship that the last time they'd had sex was because they'd just had a horrendous fight.

They hadn't touched each other since. Not even a kiss.

The thought was sobering and the soft smile slid off Spencer's face.

One day soon he really needed to sit down and re-evaluate if this relationship was worth saving. Though it made little difference what he thought about it if John didn't feel the same way. And trying to get John to talk about his feelings or thoughts was what had caused their last little lovers spat. He glanced into the living room at his coffee table sitting innocently in front of the couch, remembering how John had flipped it over in a rage before hurling his glass of water at the wall.

Pushing the troubling thoughts of his lover away took real effort, but Spencer managed to get John out of his head, grab his travel mug and head out the door to work, hoping that the train didn't still have that weird smell that had permeated all the cars on Friday.

* * *

><p>The bullpen was, blessedly, quiet when Spencer walked through the doors. It was Monday morning, so sluggish employees quietly shuffling from their desk to the coffee machine and back again was about all one could expect for the day's work output.<p>

"Heya, Pretty Boy." Morgan greeted him, his customary warmth overshadowed somewhat by the man's eyes raking over Spencer's appearance.

Spencer had expected this. After all, he'd lied when Morgan had asked him an innocent question...which somehow made it worse. A little suspicion on the other agent's end was understandable, though he did wonder what it was Morgan was looking for when his eyes traveled over him, stopping fleetingly on key points of his person. His face, his neck and his hands, looking for obvious things that might be out of place.

Spencer smiled easily, brushing past the elder agent and sitting down at his desk.

"Everything ok?" Morgan asked, sitting down at his own desk. He pulled some files out of his tray but his dark eyes remained fixed on Spencer.

"Fine. Why do you ask?" He tried his best to make sure he sounded casual and politely confused as to why Derek __wouldn't __think everything was fine.

Morgan shrugged, acting overly casual himself. "Well. You've been here for five minutes and haven't told me a single useless fact or statistic."

Spencer felt himself bristle, unsure if the comment was meant as an insult to try and jar him into confessing something or was just Morgan being Morgan. He looked over at the other man and saw nothing in his expression or body language that suggested bad intentions, but before he could say anything, Derek continued.

"Actually it kind of seems like your acting different lately."

The team didn't know that Spencer had a boyfriend and he intended to keep it that way. Good-natured teasing became irritating very quickly and besides, if any of them knew about John, they would eventually find out that their relationship was less than ideal and that was just something Spencer couldn't even think of dealing with.

His non-committal shrug and refusal to make eye contact likely wasn't the reassuring conversation Morgan had been looking for but at the very least it seemed to get the message across that the young genius was in no mood to share.

Most of the day passed in relative silence and if the atmosphere seemed a little tense to anyone else, they didn't mention it. The few times Reid and Morgan spoke, the words felt forced and it was obvious that by talking less Spencer had somehow managed to further Morgan's suspicion.

Whatever it was that Morgan was suspicious about.

Around four in the afternoon, Spencer decided that Morgan could think whatever he wanted and stood to get yet another cup of coffee to push him through the last hour of the day.

When he got back to his desk, his stomach lurched uncomfortably when he glanced at his phone and saw that he had one missed call from John. It was the first attempt the man had made at contacting him since Saturday – Spencer had learned several fights ago that contacting John first was not a good idea - and Spencer hadn't picked up.

He set his coffee down, convincing himself that his hands were not sweating, and picked up his phone.

He'd only called a few minutes ago, so it was unlikely that he'd be angry yet, so long as Spencer called him back quickly.

It took him a minute to unlock his phone. His hands were shaking a little and he decided that after the call was over he should probably throw out his coffee; he'd obviously drank too much today.

"Spencer." John said in greeting.

He didn't sound happy, but he didn't sound mad either and Spencer sighed in relief.

"Hey. Sorry I missed your call. I was getting some coffee." He quickly explained.

There was a pause and then John asked, his voice flat. "You at work?"

"Yeah, almost done." He hesitated before asking. "Where are you?"

He frowned. John sounded strange. Usually when he called after they fought he was all passionate apologies and sincere promises to get his temper under control...but this time was different. His boyfriend's voice was hard and clipped and there was nothing soft about his tone.

Something akin to nausea began to squirm in his stomach and he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I'm at your place." Answered John. "I'll see you when you get home."

The line went dead and Spencer set his phone down, staring straight ahead.

Something was obviously wrong. What could he have possibly done to upset John this time? He hadn't even spoken to him in two days.

Suddenly it was as if he'd swallowed a bucket of ice and his heart began to pound in his chest. What if this time John had been waiting for __him __to call first? He frantically raked his memory, going through every detail of their last fight to try and find some clue as to what he might have done differently that would warrant a change in their established routine.

The whole thing had started because Spencer had opened a new bottle of whiskey. Apparently that fact that it was __his__ bottle of whiskey made no difference and, now that he thought about it, the whole argument had seemed to have started on pretty flimsy reasoning. But then Spencer had made that comment about John maybe buying his own damn booze once in a while and things had really just gone down hill from there and ended with Spencer sweeping up broken glass.

But still, it hadn't been anything unusual. Not for them anyway.

He'd spent most of the day wishing five o'clock would come sooner and now he found himself dreading the moment when he walked through his front door. Would there be more yelling? More destruction of his property?

"Reid?"

He looked over at Morgan, finally blinking and feeling his eyes burn.

"You need a ride home?"

It likely wasn't the first time Morgan had asked, judging by his exasperated but amused expression, but Spencer quickly shook his head, thinking of how John would react if he drove up to the apartments and got out of another man's car.

"No. I'm good, thanks."

When five o'clock hit, Spencer was the first one out the door, resisting the urge to dash to the elevator. The less time he made John wait for him, the better the outcome would be and the whole train ride home all he could think about was how he hoped nothing happened between then and now to delay him further.

* * *

><p>Let me know what you think of the first chapter! Should I continue?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer was surprised but relieved when John offered him a tentative smile when he walked into his apartment and he was only too happy to return the gesture.

His eyes swept over his boyfriend as he dumped his bag on the floor and peeled off his coat. John's body looked relaxed, his soft smile accentuating the comfortable set of his shoulders. He wore a black t-shirt that was snug around his muscular arms and faded jeans that were covered in grease stains. It was obvious he'd come straight from work.

Spencer's eyes lingered a little longer than necessary on where the black fabric of the t-shirt was stretched around his boyfriend's chiseled arms.

With his gentle smile turning into a smirk John was across the room and enveloping him in a tight hug and, despite everything, Spencer felt himself melting in to it.

John was a tall man – several inches taller than Spencer – and was well built and muscular. He had black hair and big, dark brown eyes that could be very expressive when the man allowed them to be. He smelled of leather and oil and cigarette smoke, which Spencer guessed was just one of the side affects of being a mechanic, but the man's scent was comforting and the young agent found himself nudging his nose up under John's chin.

"I missed you." Whispered his lover, one of his large hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

"Missed you too." He lifted his chin to nip softly at John's stubbled jaw and felt the other man's arms tighten around him.

"I'm sorry."

Spencer responded by pushing himself up on his toes so that he could press his lips to John's, feeling some of the nervousness fade in the wake of the softly spoken apology.

For a second, John didn't respond, but then he was pressing back and swiping his tongue over Spencer's lips, seeking entrance. The smaller man let him in, his mind chugging to a halt when he felt the warm, wet slide of their tongues and he reached up to hook a hand around the back of his lover's neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss.

It wasn't long after that that their clothes were flying across the room and they were tumbling in to Spencer's unmade bed.

* * *

><p>He woke the next morning to John's finger slipping inside him.<p>

He jerked awake, disoriented and startled, and then John's large hand was pushing between his shoulders, keeping him still.

"Shhh...It's ok, Spencer. Just relax."

Spencer's breaths came in ragged huffs as he tried to shake the sleepy fog from his brain and get his bearings; but it was hard when all he could feel was the slick glide of John's finger pumping in and out of his hole and the weight of the larger man pinning him to the bed.

"__John...__"

"Shh."

Sunlight was streaming through his open window and he suddenly panicked, wondering what time it was. Was he late for work? He tried to push himself up but was quickly shoved back down on the mattress.

"Stay still."

The words were accompanied by a second finger pushing into his body and a small gasp of pain escaped his throat before he could stop it.

"John...I can't -"

"Sure you can, Spencer." John purred behind him. "We've got time."

The weight on his back shifted and then his boyfriend was pushing his legs apart to kneel between them, all the while keeping a firm hand between Spencer's shoulder blades so that he could not rise. Spencer was about to protest when he suddenly felt John's fingers push deep inside him and a sharp jolt of pleasure made him gasp for a different reason.

"There you go." John murmured in approval.

"I really...have to go to – ah! - work." Spencer gasped.

The only response he got was John spreading his legs further, pushing one knee out to the side and leaving him wide open. He could feel the tingle of John's gaze on his exposed hole, his thick fingers scissoring and stretching his body, forcing the muscles to loosen.

"John, seriously." He grumbled, making a real effort to dislodge the man. He didn't fancy having to explain to Hotch that he was late because he was busy fucking his boyfriend.

As soon as he tried to roll over, John's hand moved from between his shoulders to the back of his neck, his large hand circling Spencer's slender throat easily, and he was shoved forcefully back onto the bed.

" __Seriously __, stay still." Snapped John.

Panic lanced through him when he realized he couldn't move and he tried in vain to twist out of his boyfriend's grip.

"Let me go!"

John pushed three fingers inside him roughly and it was clear from the burn that he'd not stopped to add any more lube. Spencer felt his body stretching around the intrusion and he groaned into the pillow, the sheets clenched in his fists so hard his knuckles were white. When John's fingers left his body he felt a split second of relief, thinking that the other man had come to his senses, but it was short lived and the next thing he knew the head of John cock was pushing inside him.

He cried out, fiery pain tearing through him. John hadn't used any lube and was steadily inching home, his free hand clamped down on the smaller man's hip like an iron shackle holding him in place.

"John, stop!" Spencer begged, his breathing becoming shallow in his panic and pain. "Please..."

John finally bottomed out and loosened his grip ever so slightly on his young lover's neck. "It's ok, baby, you're doing great." He panted.

"It hurts!"

"Hey, shhh." The hand on his hip raised to card through his hair in what was likely supposed to be a comforting gesture. "It's ok. I've got you."

The hand on his neck tightened again, as if anticipating a struggled, and John pulled out, causing another wave of pain that made Spencer gasp sharply. When he pushed back in again the young agent moaned, pressing his face into the pillow.

What the hell was wrong with John? Couldn't he see that he was causing him pain? Did he even care? Spencer was finding it hard to organize his thoughts; with every movement his boyfriend made all he could focus on was the uncomfortable drag of his unlubed cock inside him.

John soon picked up a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of Spencer's hole while he pinned him down. Eventually it became less painful and Spencer assumed precum was helping ease John's glide in and out of his body. He had no choice but to take it. John was so much stronger than him that fighting got him nowhere. It was like the other man didn't even notice he was struggling and eventually he gave up, exhausted, and just hopped it didn't go on too much longer.

When John's thrusts started to stutter and become erratic Spencer felt the hand around his neck begin to tighten and he clawed at the bruising grip, feeling the airflow to his lungs become restricted.

"John!" He gasped, trying to pry the hand off. "John...I can't b-breathe!"

He may as well have not said anything. The grip on his throat tightened more and the edges of Spencer's vision began to grown dark. Just before he passed out, he felt John come inside him, thrusting deep one last time.

* * *

><p>He was in pain. That was the first thing Spencer realized upon waking up. He swallowed, his mouth dry, and the action instantly reminded him that John had literally just choked him into unconsciousness while he fucked him into the mattress.<p>

His stomach twisted and rolled like it was about to toss his last meal but a few more careful swallows – and winces – pushed it back down.

It took a minute to coax his neck muscles into lifting his head and when he finally glanced around the room, his vision swam.

John was laying beside him, snoring softly.

Pushing away __that__ issue, Spencer turned and groped around on his nightstand, grabbed his phone and nearly threw up all over again. It was almost lunch time and he had missed calls from Garcia, Hotch and three from Morgan.

"Fuck." He spat, vaulting to his feet. The room spun and a jolt of pain in his insides made him freeze and take a deep breath.

He glanced back at his boyfriend but he hadn't so much as twitched.

Being as quiet as possible and smothering any gasps of pain that tried to push up his throat, Spencer pulled the sheet off the bed, gathered it around himself and shuffled out of the room. For several minutes he debated who to call: Hotch or Morgan. Hotch would be able to instantly see through any lie he told but Morgan was already so suspicious of him from the last time he lied that he wouldn't believe anything Spencer told him anyway. Finally he decided on Morgan and jabbed his thumb at the recall button.

He picked up even before the first ring had finished.

"Reid?!"

"Hey -" His throat constricted when he tried to speak and he pulled the phone from his face when a fit of coughs overtook him, his throat muscles spasming painfully.

"Reid? Talk to me, man. What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm at my...at my apartment." He coughed again and wished his voice didn't sound so raspy, but then an idea - an escape plan - hit him. "I'm sick." He blurted.

But Morgan didn't seem to be listening and was already talking again.

"I'm almost at your place, Reid. Man, you had us all scared to death!"

Ice cascaded into Spencer's stomach. Morgan was coming __here__. __John__ was still here and Spencer was in no mind set to try and keep the two of them from finding out about each other. It didn't occur to him then, as he chucked his phone on the couch and stumble back his his room, to wonder__why__ he thought he needed to keep the two of them from meeting, all he knew was that it was imperative that they didn't.

A sudden wave of adrenalin had him frantically pulling some clothes from his closet and throwing them on, glancing over his shoulder to make sure John was still out cold. He closed the bedroom door behind him just as he heard Morgan pounding on his door.

Cursing, he ran and yanked it open, desperate to make the loud noises stop before they woke his boyfriend and found him staring up at his co-worker's worried face.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer ground out through clenched teeth. He dimly registered that he felt angry but didn't have time to examine why.

Morgan didn't answer right away and his hansom face was slackening in concern with every pass his eyes made over Spencer's rumpled form.

"Reid...what the hell happened to you, man?"

For a split second, the truth was right there one the tip of his tongue. All the words just seemed to materialize in his mouth, building like water behind a dam until Spencer was a littler worried that he was just going to spill his guts right then and there. But he managed to bite it all back and tried his best to settle his face in to a neutral expression.

"Nothing happened. I'm just sick."

Morgan was looking at him incredulously, clearly insulted that Reid thought he'd believe such bullshit.

"I'm sorry I missed your calls." Spencer continued, his voice now level and calm. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and make sure the bedroom door was still firmly closed. "But I won't be in today."

Derek's face was darkening with every lie that Spencer spun and the young genius felt guilty for even trying, but if John found out he'd said anything to anyone, or worse, made no effort to hide their personal problems from nosy friends, then Spencer was terrified of what he might do.

"What happened to your neck, Spencer?" Derek asked calmly.

Spencer swallowed convulsively, feeling the tender muscles ache, and realized then that his skin must be bruised as well and he cursed under his breath, breaking eye contact with Morgan. How could he have been so forgetful? He should have at least glanced in the mirror before opening the door.

"Man, you gotta tell me what's going on." Morgan pleaded, taking a step forward. His hands were held up in a gesture of peace, as if Spencer was a caged animal baring it's teeth.

He moved to put himself more squarely in the doorway, blocking Morgan's path.

"You have to leave."

"__Reid__."

Morgan looked hurt and even more concerned and Spencer felt his resolve begin to crumble. Until, that is, he heard John moving about inside his bedroom.

Not caring that he looked frantic and panicked and probably a little crazy - he didn't even look at the clothes he'd thrown on, his hair was a mess and his neck was black and blue - he turned back to Morgan and laid his hands flat on the man's very muscular chest and pushed.

"Go! __Go__! Please, Morgan, leave! __Now__!"

He was sure that the only reason he was even able to get Morgan back on the other side of his door was because the larger man was so shocked by his behavior that his brain wasn't really working properly. But the smaller man would take what he could get and moved back to slam the door closed.

"Reid, wait a minute! Wait!" Morgan said, his eyes wide with confusion and concern. His large hand circled gently around Spencer's wrists when the young genius tried to pull away. "Reid – Spencer – I know something isn't right here, man. __Please__, talk to me."

Spencer was momentarily distracted by the contrast between John's bruising grip and Morgan's gentle one but was snapped out of it when he heard more shuffling around from his room.

"No!" He hissed, tearing away from the other agent's grasp. "Leave!"

He almost slammed the door before he caught it at the last second and closed it softly, just as John opened the door to his bedroom and stepped out in nothing but his boxers.

"Spencer?" He called, his dark brown eyes squinting through the haze of sleep still clouding his brain. "Who was that?"

"No one!" He said it too quickly and felt his heart pound a little faster when John's eyes narrowed. "Er...I mean it was just Mrs. Anderson from 2B."

"What did she want?" John was waking up now and his face was clouded with suspicion as he folded his arms across his chest, virtually pinning Spencer to the spot with his sharp gaze.

"Sugar." He answered, using the first thing that came to mind. "She was making some cookies and uh...yeah she ran out of sugar." That should work. Mrs Anderson frequently made cookies and distributed them around the apartments and Spencer really did have a gigantic bag of sugar in his cupboard. Right next to his Costco sized bag of coffee beans.

"Oh." John said, his shoulders relaxing. He scratched the back of his head and yawned wide. "She say what kind?" He asked.

But Spencer could tell he wasn't being questioned; his boyfriend's voice had gone softer and he was sure that John was genuinely curious about the cookies. He'd gotten a taste of Mrs. Anderson's ginger ones several weeks ago and had devoured them.

"No. She didn't." He muttered.

The rest of their day passed in relative calmness, though Spencer was never able to truly relax. Not after what John had done just that morning. He kept glancing over at his boyfriend while they watched TV but the subject never came up. His boyfriend was once again giving him soft touches and gentle smiles and their conversations were calm and by the end of the day Spencer was beginning to wonder if he'd just imagined the whole incident that morning.

But when Spencer detached himself from John's warm arms and went to the bathroom, the bruises around his neck, which were alarmingly dark, told him that, no, it had been real. He gently ran his fingers over the discoloured skin. The bruises, he figured, looked darker because of the paleness of the surrounding skin but it was a shocking sight all the same. Suddenly Morgan's reaction didn't seem so out of line.

This was bad. Spencer knew that it was bad. There was nothing healthy about this relationship anymore. Normal people did not pin their boyfriend to the bed and fuck them without lube through their pleas for them to stop and then get so carried away that they choked them into unconsciousness. But it was as if John didn't even see the bruises around his neck. Or, perhaps even worse, he didn't see anything wrong with the bruises around Spencer's neck. The man was a classic type A personality with an alpha male complex and Spencer quickly reviewed what he knew about those kinds of men.

Alpha types were strong, confident people but the trouble usually came when they began to use their exceptional strengths inappropriately or even carry them to extremes, effectively turning their strengths into tragic flaws. Confidence becomes arrogance. Toughness becomes belligerence and competitiveness becomes a fight to the death.

He wondered what had turned the tables for John for about five seconds before he decided it didn't matter __why__. All that mattered was what was happening now and that was that his boyfriend of six months had gone from loving and caring to emotionally and verbally abusive and had now slipped smoothly into physically abusive as well and for the first time in a long time...Spencer didn't know what to do.

* * *

><p>Let me know what you think. Also, this wasn't beta'd. I tried my best to catch any mistakes. :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Cold tendrils of panic started creeping up his throat, curling around his esophagus and squeezing like constricting snakes and Spencer struggled to pull air into his lungs. He leaned against the sink and closed his eyes, willing the panic down. After a few minutes he was left feeling lightheaded and shaky but was no longer in danger of a full blown panic attack.

When he raised his head to look in the mirror his face was pale and a thin sheen of sweat was visible on his skin and he bent to quickly splash some water on his face.

He should go back out. To John. He knew this. He should end it now before things went any farther. A steadying breath did little to ease the tremble in his muscles but he stepped from the bathroom all the same.

John was still sitting on one end of the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table and eyes fixed firmly on the television. They had been watching a show about fancy cars and how to restore them and honestly Spencer had never been so bored in his life. Unfortunately, his lack of interest in what was happening on the TV left his mind free to conjure up all kinds of nasty reactions to Spencer's desire to break up.

He sat down stiffly beside John, staring straight ahead and trying to quiet the nauseous heaving of his stomach in anticipation of the impending conversation. And the subsequent blow up.

When John's calloused fingers were suddenly on his skin he jumped and looked over at his boyfriend with wide eyes

John's attention was on his neck and the tips of his fingers were lightly tracing the dark spattering of bruises.

Spencer's breath hitched in his throat, his whole body tensing. It was the first time John had acknowledge the damage he'd done with his own hands but his lover's face was unreadable, soft even.

"I guess I got a little carried away, huh?" Said John at length. His large hand left his skin and pushed up to tangle in the hair at the base of Spencer's neck.

Despite the high tension that had been thrumming through him a second ago, the young genius felt himself melting into the touch.

"How is your skin so soft?" John murmured in his ear. His tongue darted out to taste the skin at the nape of the slender man's neck and Spencer felt goosebumps explode across his body.

Perhaps John __had__ simply gotten carried away. He'd always been dominant in bed, maybe this time he'd just not realized how hard he was being.

"I'm sorry, Spencer." John's hand moved down to settle on the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Spencer sighed, closing his eyes and leaning in towards the warm, firm body beside him. "S'ok."

He felt John's lips curve into a smile against his skin.

"You're so good to me, Spencer."

John's other hand pushed up under the thin t-shirt the genius had thrown on earlier, firmly stroking over his nipples, causing Spencer to gasp and involuntarily arch his back, his head rolling against the back of the couch.

"You're so good." The older man praised, now nipping along Spencer's jaw line. "So beautiful."

Spencer tried to keep his mind clear – he'd come out here to have a grown up conversation with his boyfriend about going their separate ways – but when John's calloused hand pushed under the waistband of his pants and firmly gripped his hardening cock any thoughts of talking dissolved in an instant. His hand circled loosely around John's wrist in encouragement as he pumped up and down, the feel of his large, hot hand around him sinfully good. He groaned when John pulled his cock free of his pants and instinctively spread his legs wider to give the man better access.

"Good boy." John praised.

He turned his face towards his lover's voice, feeling stubble tickle his nose, and nuzzled in to the side of his neck, taking a deep inhale and smelling leather and oil and cigarettes. It made his head spin.

John's strokes sped up, making Spencer's breath hitch, and when his hips started twitching in tiny circles to meet his boyfriend's hand a whimper escaped his throat. The heat was building low in his abdomen and his slender fingers left John's wrist to slide up and wrap around his bicep

Suddenly John's was gone and Spencer groaned at the loss of both heat and friction. He opened his eyes, looking around blearily and not understanding the abrupt absence of the warm body beside him in the fog of arousal.

But he found John still beside him and pulling on the hem of his tshirt, so Spencer obediently lifted his arms so that his shirt could be removed.

"Lay back." John instructed firmly, sounding much clearer of mind than his young lover.

His hand pressed high up on Spencer's chest, just under his neck, and a flash of memory from that morning exploded behind the slender man's eyes. Hands like iron shackles pinning him down and fucking him raw.

He shook the memory away. John had apologized and his touches now were firm but gentle.

John's fingers hooked under the waistband of his pants, quickly striping them, off and then those large hands were pushing his knees apart, tailing up the insides of his thighs and gripping the base of his cock. Spencer groaned, his muscles trembling in the wake of John's touches. When the tight head around his swollen member began a slow rhythm up and down, the young genius' back arched off the couch and whimpered, fire igniting in his belly.

"Look at you" John panted, his fist perfectly tight around Spencer's cock. "Legs spread for me...you can't even keep still."

It was true. Spencer's hips seemed to have a mind of their own, and were thrusting up into his lover's hand in gentle circles. Whenever John's grip tightened around him or twisted a certain way, his back would arch off the sofa and a constant stream of moans and whimpers were passing his lips without his permission.

He felt a slick finger swipe over his entrance and couldn't help but wince. John had been rough with him that morning and the pain of it still lingered.

"You're still a little swollen." He heard John mutter.

His hand withdrew and then reappeared dripping with lube and he pushed his finger past the ring of muscles without warning. Spencer hissed, instinctively trying to twist away from the pain.

"Shh, it's ok, baby." John murmured, stilling both hands. He kept a firm grip on the base of Spencer's cock and hooked his finger, pressing against Spencer's prostate and making him jerk and moan.

The younger man felt torn, dancing right on the edge of pleasure and pain and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. He felt the digit inside him hook again and a delicious spike of heat flared all through his lower body.

Maybe this wasn't so bad, he thought.

"Does that feel good?" John asked, his voice a low growl.

It was all Spencer could do to nod, fisting the cushion behind his head and biting his lip, trying to keep himself grounded.

John's finger pulled out and then returned with two digits pressing into him and the flare of pain was enough to snap Spencer out of his flare of arousal.

"Ah!" He gasped, his head lifting off the couch to look down and see where his boyfriend's hand rested between his legs. "John!"

The man pressed a kiss to the inside of the knee bend against the back of the couch and continued to slowly stretch his body.

"S'ok, Spencer. Just relax."

"It hurts." He pleaded. But then John was pumping his cock again and that odd sensation of pleasure and pain was leaving him confused. He wanted to thrust up into the hand around his dick and at the same time he wanted to twist away from the finger's inside him and he was left just panting, staring up at the ceiling while his body trembled on the edge of something he didn't really understand.

"Please!" Spencer cried when John's fist tightened around his cock and his fingers spread inside him.

"Please, what?" Taunted the other man.

"Please...please..." Spencer didn't know what he was begging for. Please stop? Please give me more? He didn't really know anymore.

He heard John groan; the sound was guttural as if it had rumbled all the way up from his toes. Then his hands were gone and he was being flipped around onto his stomach.

"On your knees." John ordered behind him, grabbing at Spencer's hips and lifting him up.

Spencer had barely even registered the change in position and the fact that there was no longer a warm hand around his aching member when he felt the head of John's cock pushing at his abused entrance.

"Ah, fuck!" He cried, blindly reaching behind him to press against his boyfriend's hip.

Pain seared through him and the line between pleasure and pain was no longer fine. John grabbed the hand that was pushing back at him and twisted it up behind his back with ease and continued to push into Spencer's body.

"You feel that, Spencer? My cock stretching you out?" John growled behind him.

He could do nothing but whimper, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. When John finally bottomed out, the scrape of denim against the back of his thighs was abrasive.

Spencer was shaking, his free hand clutching the pillows so hard he thought his fingers might break and he could feel John's above average size stretching his sore body. It was too soon. Too soon after the abuse he'd suffered just that morning and when he felt something warm trickling down one of his legs he hoped it was excess lube and not blood.

"John, please." He begged. "It hurts."

A soft, gentle kiss was placed between his shoulders and John's hands rubbed soothingly down his spine.

"You're doing so good, Spencer. I want you to feel me. I want to make sure that you never forget me."

The pain began to ebb the longer John remained still inside him and Spencer took deep breaths, willing it to go faster.

"I want to know that every time you sit down you'll be forced to think of my dick in your tight little hole."

The possessive words made him shiver involuntarily and his body clenched around John's cock, making them both groan for different reasons. And then John was reaching between his legs again, coaxing him back to full hardness now that the worst of the pain seemed to have passed.

He still didn't move as his hand pumped, waiting until Spencer was writhing on his cock before slowly pulling out and driving back it.

Within seconds he was back on the edge again; pleasure radiating from the hand between his legs and pain lancing through him with every thrust John made into his over sensitized hole and it wasn't long before Spencer was begging again for something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

His boyfriend kept him right on the edge for what seemed like an eternity, stopping when Spencer's hips started pumping on their own and clamping down around the base of his cock so that he couldn't come. He quickly lost track of time, his whole world condensing down into the two points where their bodies connected.

"Mine." John growled into his ear at some point, having leaned forward to press his still clothed chest to Reid's naked back.

His thrusts became erratic and shallow and he leaned back and grabbed the globes of Spencer's ass in each hand, making the younger man wail at the loss of friction. He felt John pull his cheeks apart, leaving him feeling incredibly exposed as the man pumped into him so hard that Spencer pitched forward and had to snap his hands out to catch himself

When John released inside him it was powerful. The muscular body body rigid behind him and Spencer was shocked when he felt some of the cum escape his body and trickle down the backs of his legs.

John was panting, his hands absently kneading Spencer's cheeks as he came down from the high.

But Spencer was still desperate for release. He'd been kept just at the edge of orgasm for so long that it was becoming painful and he lifted his hand to grab his own cock but before he could touch himself, John's hand wrapped firmly around him and started pumping brutally.

He was already so close to the edge, his cock swollen and red and leaking precum, that the abrupt and rough sweep of John's hand had him coming hard in just three strokes. One of them screamed – he was pretty sure it was himself – and then the edges of his vision were getting a little wobbly and he pitched forward onto the couch, John's weight heavy on his back, cock still nestled deep inside him.

* * *

><p>He managed to make it to work on time the next day. Thankfully John had gone home after he'd recovered enough to pull himself out of Spencer's spent body.<p>

Spencer only had one turtle neck. It was a thin, black material and wasn't exactly what he normally wore but it was the only thing he had that would hide the angry looking bruises around his neck and so he'd pulled it on that morning, knowing that his coworkers would notice that it was unusual for him but hoping they'd just ignore it. Morgan was a different story. He would instantly know Spencer had chosen to wear the shirt to deliberately hide the bruises around his neck but that was something Spencer was stubbornly refusing to deal with until he had to. There was no way around it. He knew Morgan wouldn't say anything to anyone and he'd rather deal with the elder agent's concerned looks than have to tell a lie to every one of his team members about what had happened to his neck.

Besides. They weren't stupid. There was only one way he could have gotten those kinds of bruises – wrapped all the way around his neck like that.

"Hey, boy wonder!" Garcia greeted him cheerfully when he entered the bull pan.

The sparkly tech was sitting on the edge of Prentiss' desk and both of them help a cup of steaming coffee in their hands.

He offered a smile, chucked his messenger bag onto his desk and bent to turn on his monitor.

"How are you feeling?" Emily asked, looking at him with mild concern. "You still look a little pale. You sure you're up to working?"

He nodded, making sure to smile again. The thought of going back to his apartment left him feeling a little sick. John could just come over whenever he wanted and Spencer was relatively sure that his body was just not ready to go another round with his insatiable boyfriend.

When he'd gone to shower that morning, he'd found small tracers of dried blood on the backs of his legs and had begun to panic. But after he washed it away there had seemed to be no indication that he was still bleeding and he'd breathed a sigh of relief.

It had still shaken him and he decided he needed to talk to John about being more gentle.

'__Like he used to be__.' Spencer found himself thinking.

He moved away from his desk and made a beeline for the coffee maker in the small kitchenette, glad when he spotted the fresh pot of coffee already made.

"Morning, Pretty boy."

Morgan's voice suddenly behind him made Spencer jump and he sloshed some of the scalding coffee he'd just poured over the edge of his cup and onto his hand. He hissed in pain, darting to the sink and thrusting his hand under the icy stream of water.

"Shit, sorry, man. Didn't mean to scare you." Morgan voice was apologetic.

"It's ok." He said, turning off the tap and shaking his hand out. The skin was a little red but it wasn't hurting anymore. When he turned around to face Morgan, he was surprised to see such a grave look on the man's handsome face.

"Morgan, I'm fine." He reiterated, holding his hand up as evidence.

The taller man was quiet for a moment and then reached out a hand and pulled down Spencer's turtle neck, exposing the dark bruises for a split second before the young genius jerked out of his reach, eyes wide and furious.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snarled, pushing the fabric back up around his neck and looking quickly around the room to make sure no one had seen.

But Garcia had retreated to her lair and Prentiss was studiously bent over the paper work on her desk and the knowledge that his secret was still safe eased the tightness in his chest and he released a shaky breath.

"You're fine, huh?" Morgan said, his dark eyes sharp.

Spencer said nothing and turned back to finish making his coffee, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end under Morgan's hard gaze.

"Spencer."

He wanted to ignore the other man, he really did, but the soft pleading tone had him turning to face his co-worker, feeling guilty.

For a moment, Morgan didn't say anything, just stared sadly down at him, his expression soft.

"Is someone hurting you?"

He opened his mouth and almost said no but decided he'd blatantly lied to Morgan enough over the last few days, shut his mouth and decided to say nothing. He picked up his coffee and went back to his desk, leaving Morgan standing at the counter.

As predicted, the other man followed him back to his desk, since they were side by side, so Spencer sat his coffee mug down on the wooden surface a little harder than necessary; a warning.

Morgan sighed but sat down in his own chair and Spencer followed suit.

However, when he dropped into his chair, pain shot up his spine and he actually cried out with the shock of it, startling both Prentiss and Morgan. He'd managed to push the events of yesterday out of his head until he'd sat down; the jolt of pain had taken him by surprise and he quickly tried to come up with a reason to ease the worried expressions he knew would be on his co-worker's faces.

Screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, Spencer waited for the pain to pass, his hands shaking and sweaty where they grabbed the arm rests.

"Reid?" He heard Prentiss ask.

He looked up and gave her a tight smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I just hurt my back and sort of forgot about it till just now."

One of her dark eyebrows arched. "__You__ forgot something." She smirked.

"Stranger things have happened." He muttered.

When he dared sneak a glance at Morgan he was shocked to see the man's expression was pinched with anger and he subconsciously leaned back into his chair, his heart beginning to pound against his ribs. Only when the larger man pushed away from his desk and stormed off down the hall and out of sight did Spencer finally feel the tension leave him.

It struck him as odd. He'd never been intimidated by Morgan before but when he saw that angry look on his face his heart had leapt into his throat. Though he supposed it wasn't __that__ strange. Morgan was a scary dude when he was mad.

The day passed uneventfully after that. Reid went out of his way to avoid Morgan but it seemed Morgan was doing the same, for he only saw him twice, and even then, Morgan's eyes were hard when they met Spencer's. He supposed he had it coming. Derek didn't like it when Spencer didn't answer his questions and for some reason that the young genius had yet to figure out, Morgan had it stuck in his head that Reid was a little kid that needed protecting and supervising. When he was denied his urge to get involved, Derek's first response was usually anger.

When he got home that night it was to a blissfully empty apartment. In fact, he didn't hear from John for another three days and that night, Spencer had reluctantly accepted an invitation to go to the bar with his team – it was Friday night after all – and was sitting at a small table wedged between Garcia and JJ and listening to Rossi tell some story about his shady dealings in the past.

He'd bought turtle necks and had worn them the last three days in a row. If anyone thought it was strange, they didn't say anything. He supposed in a time like this his 'eccentric' personality was doing him a favour. Just another weird thing to his team mates.

Everything was going fine until Spencer felt his cell phone vibrating against his leg. He shifted to pull it from his pocket and saw 'John' flashing on the screen.

His stomach dropped through the floor and he knew there was no way he'd make it outside before the phone stopped ringing and he wondered what was worse: missing the call or John hearing the loud music and laughing people in the background. He'd instantly know that he was at a bar.

With JJ and Garcia absorbed in Rossi's story, Spencer knew there was no way to escape outside in time so, taking a deep breath, he jabbed the answer button with his thumb and brought the phone to his ear.

"John?"

"I'm at your place. You're not here." The man's tone was accusing, as if he was angry Spencer hadn't been able to read his mind and know he was coming over.

"You never said you were coming over." He said defensively, sticking his finger in his ear to block out some of the noise.

"Are you at a club?" John asked incredulously. It was easy to hear the beginnings of anger forming in his voice.

"No! I-I'm at a bar with my coworkers." He stammered, practically able to hear the anger seeping through the phone.

"Get your ass home. __Now__." John growled into the phone and Spencer drew a shaky breath. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

"I can't just -"

"I __said__ come home __now__."

The line went dead and he stared down at his phone incredulously. John was sitting in his apartment __right now__, fuming and likely getting angrier and angrier with every passing second. If he went to him now would he want to have sex? Would he scream and yell and throw things again?

It seemed likely.

He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to deal with his boyfriend's temper. He was still healing from the last time John had taken him and he didn't think he could do it again so soon and not have to go to the hospital afterwards. But he was left with little other option. What was he going to do? Stay in a hotel for the night?

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. When he looked up, he met Morgan's gaze across the table and sat up a little straighter, suddenly aware that his body language was likely broadcasting how miserable he was. Luckily, Garcia had left her seat to go get them more drinks and JJ was talking to Emily and no one else seemed to notice.

He blinked owlishly across the table at Derek. He __could__ ask to stay at Morgan's tonight. It wasn't totally unusual for him to spend the night at his place after he had too much to drink on one of these outings.

Of course if John ever found out...

'__I can't go home when he's like this__.' Spencer told himself, twirling the phone in his hands. '__He'd lose control again.'__

He slipped out of the booth and went around to stand by Morgan, the man's weighted gaze following him as he went. He leaned in and yelled over the music.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

Derek was out of his seat before he even finished asking and Spencer led him out a back door. There were a few people milling around the alley, chatting and smoking but otherwise ignoring the two men that had just left the bar.

"What's going on?" Margan asked right away.

Spencer swallowed nervously, "Can I...is it ok if I stay at your place tonight?"

Derek's expression softened. "Sure thing, Pretty Boy. Everything ok?"

It was asked casually enough but it was easy to see the underlying sincerity behind the words. Spencer wasn't stupid, he knew Morgan was worried about him but something was telling him that confessing about his relationship issues was likely going to make things even worse for him. So he kept his mouth shut. He was an adult and he could deal with this on his own.

"Everything is fine." He lied.

Morgan nodded as if he'd expected that answer and then placed his large hand on Spencer's slim shoulder.

"Just know that you can always talk to me. About anything."

He smiled, his stomach flipping strangely.

By the time they got back to Derek's house, Spencer had three missed calls and four text messages from John. The texts were simply demands on his whereabouts and he assumed the three voice mails were the same.

He ignored them all, setting his phone down on the kitchen table while Morgan puttered around making coffee.

He needed to __not__ talk to John for a while longer. He needed time to process and, normally, he processed things at lightning speed but this was new territory for him and he was flying blind. He didn't have much experience in the way of relationships but he knew enough from reading that what was happening between him and John was not healthy and not normal.

John was becoming alarmingly possessive and confusingly contradictory in his behaviours. Praising him while causing him pain. His touch with one hand loving while the other was brutal. Apologizing for losing his temper and then losing it again anyway. It was very, very confusing

He hoped that by not running when John called that maybe...maybe...

He sighed and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Why was he even struggling with this? He didn't love John, it should be easy for him to break it off. But it was like pleasure and pain and it was strange but intoxicating and -

"Hey, kid, you still with me?"

His head snapped up, black spots dancing in his peripheral vision, and saw that Morgan was sitting across from him and there was a mug of coffee on the table in front of him.

"Yeah. Thanks." He mumbled, pulling the mug towards him.

"So you gonna tell me what's going on or are we still pretending everything is fine?" Morgan asked casually, sipping his coffee.

"We're pretending everything is fine." He snapped, glaring over the rim of his mug.

Though there was no __point__ in pretending anymore. Not with Morgan. He knew something was going on and he wasn't about to insult his intelligence by making up some ridiculous excuse like 'Oh, yeah I fell' to explain his bruises. But there was a fine line between admitting he had some issues going on in his personal life and burdening his friend with the details.

Morgan held up his hand in a placating gesture but he looked disappointed and it tugged at Spencer's heart. He felt guilty.

"Fine. I know you're an adult and can make your own decisions but," His voice and eyes softened as he stared across the table at the slight man, "If you find yourself mixed up in something, if you get in too deep, you'll call me, right?"

Mixed up in something? Spencer frowned. Did Morgan think he was getting mixed up in drugs again? Associating with bad people? His stomach lurched and he suddenly was faced with an intense desire to set the record straight but he held his tongue and nodded, happy that it at least managed to make Morgan relax a little.

They finished their coffee in silence and then Spencer rose to follow Morgan upstairs to the spare bedroom. It wasn't the first time he'd spent the night at Morgan's but it __was__ the first time it had been under such shitty circumstances. He hoped to not make a habit of spending the night here because he was scared to go home to his boyfriend.

"Thank you, Derek." He said, turning to face the taller man where he stood the doorway.

Morgan said nothing, but his eyes dropped to the high collar of his turtle neck and he took a few steps into the room until he was standing right in front of Spencer. He reached up and gently slipped his finger under the edge of the fabric, intent on pulling it down but Spencer leaned back, his gaze wary.

"Please?" Morgan asked quietly, his hand still held aloft. "I just want to make sure you're ok."

With a sigh, Spencer gave a short nod, knowing that Derek wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted.

Derek's fingers were rough against his skin and the dry drag of his calloused hand on his neck sent a shiver down his spine that Spencer desperately tried to hide. Luckily, Morgan seemed to be entirely focused on examining the bruising around his neck and didn't notice

That had been strange. Usually he only felt like that when John touched him...

That was something to think about later because Morgan's frown was deepening like he was trying to work out a puzzle and then his long fingers were slipping around his neck like he intended to choke and Spencer recoiled with a gasp, memories of John's hand around his neck, squeezing until he couldn't breath, were suddenly forefront in his mind.

He looked up at Morgan with wide eyes, telling himself that he must have misinterpreted the action. Morgan would never hurt him, never __touch__ him like John did. Right?

"Reid..." Morgan trailed off before he even got started, his expression stricken like someone had just slapped him across the face. He licked his lips and looked up again. "Reid, did someone __choke__ you?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. Morgan hadn't been trying to grab him, he'd just been placing his own hand over the marks on his neck.

"Look, uh," Spencer nervously ran a hand down his front, eyes darting around the room, unable to meet the other man's gaze, "I'm pretty tired. I really just want to get some sleep."

Morgan was nodding slowly, as if wrestling with himself on whether or not to push the conversation. "Ok." He said eventually. "Get some sleep and we'll swing by your place tomorrow morning so you can get a change of clothes and then maybe we'll get some breakfast."

"Thank you." He breathed out. He was too tired to even think about what he might do if John was still there tomorrow morning. For now he just wanted to sleep

He quickly changed into the pair of drawstring bottoms and tshirt that used to be Morgan's but had somehow become Spencer's after all the times he'd slept in them. When his head hit the pillow he was out cold in minutes.

* * *

><p>Derek went back to the kitchen after Reid closed the bedroom door and found himself staring at the kid's phone where he'd left it sitting at the island counter. He could see that there was three missed calls and a couple text messages from a guy named John and for a few moments Derek wrestled with himself.<p>

Should he look?

On the one hand, it was an incredibly terrible breach of trust and right now he was trying to get Spencer to confide in him. On the other hand, the guy was clearly in some kind of trouble and whatever was on the phone would likely answer a lot of his questions.

In the end, Derek set the phone back down on the marble counter. Snooping through his phone was __not__ that way to get Spencer to trust him.

He was just about to head upstairs and go to bed himself when the phone suddenly started vibrating. He picked it up again and, surprise surprise, it was John calling.

Derek bit his lip. Going through the phone was one thing but answering a call was surely harmless? After all, the dude obviously had something to say to Reid, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't at least offer to pass on a message? Maybe it was something __important__.

He hit the green button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was a beat of silence and then a man's voice was purring dangerously in his ear.

"Where is Spencer?"

The hairs on the back of Derek's neck stood on end and his eyes narrowed to slits. Whoever this guy was, he was bad news. It was obvious that John was harassing Reid. Did the kid owe him money? God, what had Spencer gotten himself mixed up in?

"Who wants to know?" He snapped, not bothering to hide his anger.

There was an indignant pause before John snapped back, the words whipping out from behind his teeth and slapping Derek right in the face.

"I'm his __boyfriend__ ."

* * *

><p>Boom! Another chapter. Uh, I kind of struggled with the pacing of this one so let me know what you think, yeah?<p> 


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